I pray thee, leave, love me no more,
Call home the heart you gave me!
I but in vain that saint adore
That can but will not save me.
These poor half-kisses kill me quite—
Was ever man thus servèd?
Amidst an ocean of delight
For pleasure to...
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Dear, I to thee this diamond commend, |
Queen Virtue's court, which some call Stella's face, The door by which sometimes comes forth her Grace |
If all the world and love were young, Time drives the flocks from field to fold, |
Let me not to the marriage of true minds |
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? |
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; |
Love is a sickness full of woes, More we enjoy it, more it dies; Love is a... |
You meaner beauties of the night, You curious chanters of the wood, |
My true love hath my heart, and I have his, His heart in me keeps him and me in one, |